Alex Forrester was dead, in all ways except physically. The creature in front of me was just another rogue that needed putting down.
Slowly, I stood up. Wyatt hovered behind me.
“You should see your faces. This is priceless,” Alex said.
“What was the point?” I asked.
“Boredom. The fellows upstairs don’t have much to keep them entertained while they’re guarding your sorry asses. I was only interesting for a short while.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? Getting me into this? We had that conversation, remember? I’m still Alex, just a little improved.”
“You’re not Alex.”
“Sure I am.” He strolled out of his cell and came around to the front of mine. “I still remember everything, Evy. I’ve just never felt like this before, like I could run a marathon and never get winded. Like I could take down an armored car with my bare hands.”
“But you can’t, because you aren’t a vampire. You’ll never be one, you’ll never have their strength or their powers. You’re infected by a saliva parasite that’s altering your DNA. You’re a half-breed, nothing more.”
“It’s better than being dead, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes dead is better.”
Wyatt grunted.
“Do you really think that?” Alex asked.
“More than ever.”
“Cheer up, sweetheart. Your clock runs out in thirty hours, and then everyone gets what they want.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Wyatt asked.
Alex gave Wyatt a hard stare. “She talks so highly of you, and you still haven’t figured this thing out? That’s pretty pathetic.”
“I’ll give him one thing, Evy, he’s got the cryptic-speak down pat.”
“I’ve got at least forty hours left,” I said.
“Wrong,” Alex said. “Hate to break it to you, beautiful, but your boyfriend forgot to clarify one point when he made his deal, and that was when precisely the clock started.”
Wyatt made a strangled sound.
I gaped at Alex, quickly doing the math in my head. It came out to an answer I should have anticipated, and that instantly infuriated me. Had Tovin somehow fucked up the resurrection spell? “Son of a bitch, he started the clock at the time of death of the host body.”
“Bingo. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?”
“So we’re supposed to do what now? Just sit down here until my time is up? That’s the plan?”
“In a nutshell. But just think, Evy, it’s your fondest wish. You get to spend the rest of your life with him. Short though it is.”
“Step into this cell with me, asshole,” Wyatt said, “and we’ll see whose life is going to be shorter.”
Alex laughed—a hard sound lacking warmth or mirth. “Please, I’m not that stupid. I may be reborn, but that doesn’t mean I suddenly know how to defend myself. You’d wipe the floor with me, help your girlfriend escape, and then he’d be pissed.”
“Who’s he?”
“Nice try, but no. It’ll ruin the surprise, and trust me, no one’s going to see this coming.”
More questions died on my lips. He wouldn’t answer them. Asking was a waste of time. The Halfies wanted us down here until my time ran out. They had a crystal in place that interfered with Wyatt’s Gift. It had been planned meticulously. Yet as simple as it all seemed, I couldn’t see that final piece of the puzzle. The final “who” and “why” that completed the picture.
“And lucky you,” Alex said to Wyatt. “You get to watch the love of your life die twice.” Wyatt growled; Alex laughed. “But you two won’t be alone. An old friend will be back around midnight, and she’s bringing her favorite straight razor. That healing thing you do fascinates her.”
My stomach trembled. Anger flared bright red in my vision. Kelsa had been here recently, and she was coming back. Passing threats against her health to Alex was a waste of breath, but it didn’t stop me from thinking them. If she even pointed her razor at me or Wyatt …
“We probably won’t meet again,” Alex said. “Good-bye, Evangeline Stone.”
“Fuck off, Halfie,” I said, offering him a one-fingered salute.
He smirked and strolled back to the iron door, as breezy as a man on an afternoon stroll. He hit it twice with his fist. The door opened, and he disappeared through it. The lock squealed back into place.
“Evy?” Wyatt said.
I retreated to the middle of my cell. “If you ask me if I’m okay, I’ll belt you, I swear it.”
He offered a wan smile. “Sorry.”
“He never should have gotten involved in this shit, Wyatt. I kept trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t go. This is what friendship got him.” I sat down, exhausted and hungry and verging on the need to pee. “So what do we do now? A rousing game of I Spy?”
“Arousing, huh?”
“Cute.”
“I know you are, but what am I?”
“A jackass.”
“You should get some rest.”
The change-up surprised me. I also wasn’t about to argue. I needed sleep, as well as the fresh perspective that came with a rested mind. The hard cement floor wasn’t conducive to comfortable sleeping, though, as Wyatt could certainly attest. He’d been caged up longer than I.
“Come here,” he said.
I did. He stretched out lengthwise on his side of the prison bars, facing me. I did the same, lying on my right side with my back to him. The barrier prevented much contact, but I felt his presence. His warmth and strength and life. He draped half of one arm over my waist. I reached up to clasp that hand, fingers tangling with his. It was the best we could do, but I’d take it over nothing.
We were together again, and we made a hell of a team. Faith in that helped me find some restless sleep, once again devoid of dreams or nightmares.
Chapter 19
25:40
Hours passed in a hazy daze of sleeping and waking. Time spent not talking about anything important, just holding each other without really touching. The more I puzzled it out, the more confused I became, unsure of what was true and what was false. Memory and instinct vied for attention, but neither provided the answers we needed. Or a means of escape from our cells.
No one was left to look for us. Isleen and Rufus were probably dead. Max wouldn’t interfere. We had no more allies within the Triads. Hope grew dimmer with each passing hour, marked only by my increasing hunger and thirst.
At some point during our slumber, two bottles of water appeared outside of my cell. I scrambled for them, and nearly wrenched my shoulder out of its socket. No matter how I twisted and tried, they remained outside of my grasp, a full twelve inches from my fingertips.
“Use my belt,” Wyatt said, already reaching for the buckle.
“That’ll just knock them over.” Water had never looked so good, and I didn’t want to risk pushing them farther away.
I stood up and shimmied out of my jeans. They caught on my sneakers, so I yanked those off, too. I shook out the jeans, put them through the bars, and knelt. Holding one leg cuff in each hand, I flung the crotch toward the
